


low visibility

by deuteroscopies



Series: the prophet and the king [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Caretaking, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Magical Accidents, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuteroscopies/pseuds/deuteroscopies
Summary: Due to Soapberry weirdness, Freddie comes down with a flu, even though fairies don't get ill. And Ephram? Well. His dick's disappeared.
Relationships: Freddie Watts/Ephram Pettaline
Series: the prophet and the king [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551673





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**Author's Note:**

> > Freddie Watts = Tom Hardy FC, Ephram Pettaline = Boyd Holbrook FC. These stories are set in the supernatural town of Soapberry Springs, in the Pacific Northwest. Freddie is a fairy con man from London, with cobalt-coloured dragonfly wings and silver fairy dust, who has a Japanese Chin familiar named Oliver; Ephram is a witch from impoverished East Kentucky who shares his body with a demon called Anaxis and has green magic of his own.
>> 
>> [the prophet and the king 'verse tumblr](http://theprophetandtheking.tumblr.com/)   
> 

[freddie TXT] Ephram, love, are you going to be working late tonight?  
  
ephram TXT: No, babe. There’s uh something kind of alarming going on with me  
  
TXT: And when I say kinda I really mean I’m freaking the fuck out  
  
[freddie TXT] Ephram, what’s wrong? Are you alright?  
  
Ephram sighed, toying with his phone and considering how he could possibly word this. He finally decided he couldn’t. There was just no way.  
  
TXT: In the big scheme of shit I’m fine  
  
TXT: On a deeply personal level I ain’t  
  
TXT: Tell you what, I’m just finishing up investigating something at that strip joint with the Frenchified name. cremde Ment?  
  
TXT: Creme de Menthe they told me. Get here fast if you can. I really need you right now.  
  
Freddie, who was feeling progressively more tired and dragged out as the evening wore on, was now deeply concerned. ‘Freaked out’ had been disconcerting enough, but to be told he was needed right now? That was a whole new level of worry.  
  
He immediately called a taxi.  
  
[freddie TXT] I’ll be there soon, sweetheart. I love you.  
  
And less than twenty minutes later he was climbing out of that same cab, heading into the Creme de Menthe Gentleman’s Club. Barely looking at the lounge itself, Freddie made his way to the bar to ask the man behind it where exactly he could find Deputy Pettaline.  
  
Wondering what fresh Hell was about to descend on them.  
  
The gargoyle bartender, in possession of an impressive double coil of ram’s horns, paused in wiping out a stein and stared at Freddie for what seemed like ages. Then he broke into a slow grin, the amusement twitching at his nose, and said, “You can find him in semi-private #6. And trust me on this one, bub–” the bartender poured a shot of very respectable Macallan, sliding it across the polished bar to Freddie, “–you should fortify yourself first.”  
  
Semi-Private Room #6 had its doorway curtained with long strips of something that looked like chainmaille scales, shimmering with an iridescent flirtiness in the low light. Inside, Ephram was sprawled moodily in a chair with his boots half kicked-off, the shirt of his uniform messily undone at the throat, smoking as he intently watched the fairy who was performing an extraordinary series of enticing poses on the low dais across from him.  
  
A fairy who was glamoured to look exactly like Freddie Watts.  
  
Catching sight of the new guest, the fairy stopped his routine, goggling at the real Freddie. “Shit,” he said, letting the glamour drop, “this is awkward.”  
  
Ephram didn’t seem perturbed at all, looking over at Freddie. “I dunno what’s wrong with me,” he said mournfully. “Babe, it’s…” Ephram looked over at the club fairy, who didn’t seem to know what to do, and held out some folded-over bills. Grateful, the fairy grabbed the money and scampered off as the witch blew out a doleful plume of smoke. “I’m missing something. Something important.”  
  
Whether it was his fatigue, or his fear, getting to him, Freddie found he didn’t much appreciate the look on the bartender’s face. Or the way he’d stared at him. And whatever was going on, he intended to get to the bottom of it. Right flaming now.  
  
“Semi-private #6,” the fairy repeated, narrowing his eyes. He took the shot and swallowed it - given their history of late, and since this didn’t yet seem to be a life or death situation, it was hard to argue with the notion of a little Dutch courage - and then headed off in search of his husband.  
  
Whom he found easily, precisely where the bartender had said he would be, apparently taking in the entertainment.  
  
Puzzled - because ‘right now’ seemed a lot less pressing in person than Ephram’s texts had led him to believe - Freddie stepped closer; but it wasn’t until he got a good look at the man on the dais, and found his own face staring back at him, that his confusion hit the high water mark.  
  
So Freddie just stood there, still trying to muddle out exactly what was going on, as Ephram paid his dancer and the poor thing hurried out, before turning to his witch and moving to stand in front of him. He touched his face softly, distressed by the sadness in Ephram’s voice, and still completely mind-boggled by the whole affair.  
  
“What are you missing, love?” Freddie murmured, caressing Ephram’s cheek, “I mean, other than common sense, of course - because that’s a show you could have at home any night you like. From the real thing.”  
  
“I know I could,” Ephram said, voice roughened slightly from both the smoke and desire, looking up at Freddie. “I just like to do this from time to time. When I don’t got the time to find you and fuck you brainless.” Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table – no bottles or empty glasses, since Ephram was still somewhat on the clock – he grabbed Freddie’s hand and planted a desperate kiss against his palm, face turning slowly red.

“Do you?” Freddie breathed, touched and excited all at once, “You really pay them to glamour themselves into me, and perform for you?” He smiled as he moved closer. “And is it terrible that I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard?”  
  
Fairy that he was, he’d been distracted away from Ephram’s upset by this shiny new information; but when Ephram took his hand and kissed it, pained and unable to meet his eyes, Freddie was immediately brought back to the pertinent matter.  
  
“Sweetheart, just tell me what’s wrong,” he said, “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, I promise…”  
  
“It’s awful, Freddie,” Ephram said in a low, pained voice, unable to look Freddie in the face. “I dunno what happened or why but nothing I do seems to make it better. I tried everything I could think of but it’s still….”  
  
Pulling Freddie in closer, Ephram leaned forward to press his face into his husband’s chest, his words muffled when he finally managed to confess: “…my goddamn dick’s gone _invisible_ , Freddie.”  
  
When Ephram finally did get it out, his face hidden against Freddie’s chest, the fairy just gaped down at him, not quite sure he’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry…what?” he asked. “Did you say-” He took Ephram’s head in his hands and tilted his face up, in order to look him in the eye. “It’s still there though, yeah? I mean, your cock can’t just-”  
  
Freddie let go of Ephram and took a small step back to give him room to stand. “You’ve got to show me, love.”  
  
“Right now. Trousers off.”  
  
At some other time, Ephram would have been more than happy to elaborate on his weird little personal sexual gratification habits and the frequency of them (there was a reason the gargoyle bartender had recognized Freddie instantly), but he was too caught up in his current predicament to concentrate on it.  
  
“It’s still there,” Ephram confirmed, although worry still creased his brow. He unconsciously gave himself a grope to back up his assertion. “Just can’t see it. Goddammit, Freddie, what the hell is this? Did some fairy or witch get pissed at me and do some kinda glamour or illusion or something? I can’t think of why this woulda happened!”  
  
Screwing up his face when Freddie let go and moved back, Ephram blurted a petulant “No!” when his fairy ordered him to show the afflicted organ. But of course he could deny Freddie nothing, so with a huge sigh Ephram stood and started undoing his trousers. He paused halfway, squinting at Freddie. “It’s unsettling,” Ephram warned him. “It ain’t like a Ken doll down there. It’s like … you can see muscle and skin and stuff, like it all got cut away real precise-like. But it’s still there, I can feel it.”  
  
Clearly unhappy about it, Ephram opened his pants all the way. Hooking a thumb in the front of his underwear, he dragged them down to show Freddie the alarming sight.  
  
“This sounds like precisely the sort of nonsense that an irritated fairy might get up to - but the logistics are off. Glamours require concentration and commitment to hold, and proximity makes a rather large difference…Did you just discover it when you got here?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ephram nodded. “I had about a whole pot of coffee in my belly and when I went to take a leak….” He gestured vaguely. “Scared the fuck outta me. I thought maybe if I tried to get hard, it would, I dunno – come back? Reappear? So that’s why I paid for a glamour dance.” Ephram butted his head briefly against Freddie’s for comfort.

Freddie ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, think, darling - have you stuck your cock in anyone lately that might be upset with you? Or not stuck it in them? Anyone who dances here? Because this is a very personal sort of attack…”  
  
The fairy sighed at Ephram’s initial refusal to show him the problem, chivying him along until he agreed - but as soon as he did, Freddie realized that he quite possibly should have left well enough alone.  
  
Because for the first time since they’d met, Freddie was unhappy to see what Ephram was packing for him.  
  
“Jesus Christ…” he murmured, staring in horror at what was no longer there, “Love, that’s-” Freddie tore his eyes away and looked up into Ephram’s. “That’s awful,” he said sympathetically. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt though? There’s no pain, nothing missing? It’s just…invisible? Do you mind if I-” Freddie stepped closer again, and before Ephram could protest, he reached out, and felt for it; wrapping his fingers around Ephram’s length like he’d done a hundred times before.  
  
“I’d know your cock in a blind taste-test,” he said with the ghost of a smile, as he squeezed his husband gently, not looking down. “And you feel as good as always.” Freddie tugged just a little. “Would you like me to glamour it back for you, love, until we can find out what’s causing this? Just so you’ll feel better? Because I can. Picture perfect, I promise.”  
  
He thought about Freddie’s question of possible suspects, then shook his head. “Nobody who had the skill or power for this,” Ephram said, quite sure. “I slept with a vampire a few weeks ago, but Ruby was there too and it was all real convivial-like.” He glumly registered Freddie’s reaction to what he had to show – or not show – and reported, “I feel totally normal. Not like anything’s gone, not like there’s pain. That’s why I only realized when I wanted a piss.”  
  
Ephram might have protested Freddie manhandling him if he’d had the opportunity, but the moment Freddie had a good grip, some of the tension flowed out of Ephram. Freddie confirming that business was still going on down there made the whole thing seem less crazy. Well, still a lot crazy, but at least it wasn’t all in Ephram’s mind. “Thank you, honey,” he said gratefully at the compliment, hips inching forward as Freddie’s hand kept moving.  
  
But Ephram went still when Freddie offered to glamour it over. “Would you?” Ephram asked hopefully. “Would it only work when you’re close by? Jesus, that would be so great, Freddie.” Ephram wrapped his arms around the fairy, bucking his hips against the other man. “I feel like some horror movie reject like this.”  
  
Freddie winced as Ephram told him how he’d first discovered the problem, understanding now why he’d sought out a little…stimulation. Freddie’s first impulse would have been the same. He nuzzled against Ephram’s temple for a moment, the gentle little head-butt soothing on both sides, and then frowned slightly as his witch quashed his first volley of potential ax-grinders; unsure where that left them.  
  
“Anyone you’ve arrested then? Or maybe someone who disapproves of our circumstances, and thinks this will make some sort of a statement about where you put your prick?”  
  
“I’m honestly at a loss, sweetheart… I’ve never seen anything like this.”  
  
Working Ephram’s cock slowly, Freddie felt some of the anxiety begin to leach out of his husband - just like he’d known that it would - and he smiled, at the little rock of Ephram’s hips, and the way he swelled slightly in his hand. “You’re welcome, love,” he murmured, leaning up to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I promise we’ll get it sorted.”  
  
And when Ephram stilled suddenly, asking if Freddie really could put things right even temporarily, the fairy nodded. “Of course I would,” he said, “But it will only work when we’re together, yeah. I’ll need to dust you, and then just keep the glamour simmering low on a back-burner in the corner of my mind - it’ll be better than nothing, though. And if you drink a little less coffee at work, you shouldn’t even have to face it much.”  
  
Manifesting his dust through the palm of his hand as he stroked him, Freddie glanced down, and smiled as Ephram’s cock reappeared, shimmering slightly as silvery trails of fairy dust clung to it.  
  
Freddie released him, so that his witch could take a look, and stepped back, rather pleased with his work.  
  
His head swam a little as he did though, and he rubbed tiredly at his eyes for a moment before shooting Ephram a grin. “So what do you think?” he asked, “Would I make a reliable witness? I think my attention to detail is unparalleled, personally…”  
  
But before Ephram could reply, Freddie suddenly let out a violent and unexpected sneeze, producing a glittering cloud of fairy dust that instantly glamoured the chair Ephram had been sitting on before into a copy of the horrifying painting - of them as a fantasy novel couple, him all naked bulging muscles and her with juglike tits - he’d once seen in the Andrews’ living room.  
  
Freddie just gawked at it for a second, then waved the magic off, leaving the chair as it had been. “Well, that’s never happened before,” he muttered, “Excuse me, darling.”  
  
His cock being back to normal (visible, at least, Ephram had no idea if this was a symptom of something bigger and really didn’t want to think about it) only while Freddie was around wasn’t optimal, but at the moment Ephram would take it. He nodded as Freddie started using his fairy dust, the feeling of it like being wrapped in what Ephram imagined champagne bubbles would be, and when Freddie finished and stepped back Ephram wasted no time in inspecting his husband’s work.  
  
With his head bowed he didn’t notice the weariness that came over Freddie. Ephram ran his thumb along the top and the underside of his cock, checking, and then looked up with a matching grin, ready to heap praise on Freddie for his fine job. Not to mention more than a little flattered that his fairy had memorized its dimensions.  
  
But then Freddie sneezed, one of the kinds that sounded like it hurt your throat and sinuses and exploded shimmery dust everywhere. Tucking himself in and fastening his pants, Ephram wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or not. But then he caught sight of the painting and felt his breathing quicken. “Honey, did you just create that thing?” Ephram said, pointing at it with furrowed brow. “I didn’t think you knew Chris that … well.”  
  
He’d tried to keep his voice neutral, but Ephram heard how it came out; possessive, jealous, scratchy and pissed. He sighed and went over to Freddie, looping an arm around his waist as they surveyed the black velvet painting. “I’m sorry,” Ephram sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. You got every right to get intimate with whoever you want.” He kissed the side of Freddie’s head and then pulled back a little. “Babe, you feel like you’re runnin’ kinda warmer than usual. Are you okay?” Another bell of alarm rang and Ephram put his fingers under Freddie’s chin, turning the fairy’s face towards him. “Are you … you look awful run-down, Freddie. Maybe we should go home.”  
  
Freddie shot Ephram a look of vaguely affronted disgust. “Sweetheart, I admit that I’m no artist in the truest sense of the word, but I’d never be responsible for a horror like that. Bite your tongue.”  
  
“I just happened to see it once - through no desire of my own, I assure you - at Chris and Faye’s. He’s rather proud of it, really - and I suppose I’ve just got cock on the brain tonight; given what’s brought me down here.”  
  
He shifted closer, leaning a little against his husband, Ephram’s arm a comfortable presence around his waist, and let his lips curl into a teasing smile, despite the sudden dull ache starting at his temples. “And just so you know, my love - though you are very sexy when you’re jealous - I don’t know your sister witch’s husband well at all. Nor do I care to. Not like that.”  
  
But when Ephram asked a moment later if he was alright, suggesting that maybe they head home, because Freddie seemed a little under the weather, he nodded almost immediately, unable to see any benefit to pretending he felt better than he did. “Can we?” he asked, “I’m exhausted.”  
  
Letting out a weak chuckle, he rubbed his eyes again. “That was actually part of why I texted to see when you’d be home. I was hoping you’d stop by Mal Ojo and pick me up some tea.”  
  
Freddie’d barely finished his sentence though, when he began to cough, a small cloud of dust billowing between them; and before he’d finished, the rough hack still hanging in the air, Ephram’s uniform had already become a startling shade of turquoise.  
  
The fairy sighed, just staring at it, and croaked, “I think I must be coming down with something…”  
  
Freddie’s indignation at being connected in any way to the existence of the painting did cheer Ephram out of his jealousy, and even more so his fairy’s assurance that he didn’t have any interest in that with Chris. “Faye’s tits are too big,” Ephram said dubiously, feeling that the painting was in pretty poor taste – the subservient Faye in it made him uncomfortable – but being easily distracted by Freddie.  
  
“The entire thing’s too big,” Freddie said tiredly, “I’ve honestly never seen a worse waste of paint in my life.”  
  
He was quiet for a second, a little dizzy, then looked at Ephram fondly, despite his slightly glassy eyes. “What is it that made you jealous though, love?” he asked, “Was it the idea of me with Chris, or with another man in general?”

  
“We got plenty of tea at home, honey, don’t you worry none,” Ephram assured him. “Got bored and went online and ordered a shit ton of em, whatever sounded like it might be nice or handy. Coffee and cocoa and cider, too. Any kinda hot drink you could possibly want.” It had been a fun little diversion, shopping and speculating over what to choose, and although Ephram wasn’t a splurger he’d enjoyed the experience.  
  
He was glad he’d made sure to get some medicinal teas when Freddie gave a painful-sounding cough that produced more dust, to startling effect when the results were surprising even to the fairy who made them. “Coming down with something?” Ephram repeated, puzzled, as he shepherded Freddie from Room #6. “I din’t think fairies came down with nothin’. I like the colour, though.” Ephram plucked at his shirt collar as they headed out.  
  
But despite the warm glow Ephram’s possessiveness had given him, Freddie’s lips settled into a vague pout when he was told that they already had tea at home. “It’s not real tea though,” he said plaintively. “I mean, I’m sure it’s very good, love…but it’s not the same. Iann’s the only one who carries my tea.”  
  
His pout deepened. “I need real tea.”  
  
Too worn out to continue to fuss though, the fairy let himself be led from the room. He was leaning heavily on his husband now, feeling warm, and clammy, and rather like reheated rubbish. “We don’t,” he sighed, “We’re immune to everything that humans contract, and I’ve never been sick a day in my life that I can remember… I’ve only be told that I was.”  
  
“We do have our own illnesses though - not many, but a few - so I’m assuming I’ve got one of those. I just don’t know what else could be wrong with me…”  
  
The two of them made their way outside without incident - the bartender giving a smirking wave as they passed - but when they got to Ephram’s jeep, Freddie felt another sneeze coming on. He waved his witch back, turned - and promptly sneezed a cascade of silvery magic over onto the car beside them, turning it into a bicycle built for two.  
  
Three more harsh painful sneezes followed before Freddie - now clad in his old school uniform - and Ephram were able to climb into the car, leaving chaos, and a ten foot terrifying hairpin, in their wake.  
  
Freddie buckled his seatbelt, and looked at Ephram helplessly. “Maybe you should drive a little fast, yeah?” he murmured, “Christ knows what’s coming next.”  
  
Figuring it was best to take Freddie at his word and get home as soon as possible, Ephram decided he would address Freddie’s concerns when they got there. Even though Freddie looked tantalizing in that schoolboy uniform (and there was a kink Ephram never expected to respond to), between Ephram’s wonky dick and Freddie’s haywire dust, for once this was no time for sexy pursuits. “Lucky the car didn’t stay a bicycle,” Ephram remarked as he turned on the siren, blowing through red lights. “Although at another time that might’a been fun.”  
  
They reached the house in short order, but even still, Ephram thought his fairy looked worse the wear for the trip. “Awright,” Ephram said, hopping out and coming to open Freddie’s door. “You ain’t fit to drag yourself upstairs, so don’t quarrel with me for bundling you up.” Freddie had more muscle mass, between the two of them, but Ephram was tall and strong enough to manage carrying the fairy upstairs to the room where they’d made love days before, setting him down on the bed. “Get undressed, put on something warm, and get cosy under the covers, now, there’s a good boy,” Ephram crooned, stroking Freddie’s slightly damp hair. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

The ride home, while not technically long, felt like an eternity to Freddie, whose light-headed dizziness was made worse by the motion, as he grew progressively more achy and feverish. He managed to contain his coughs and sneezes though, for the most part; succeeding in only glamouring the jeep’s interior from it’s usual state to something straight out of the 1970s.  
  
Finally arriving back at the house in Jamara, he didn’t protest at all when Ephram lifted him into his arms and carried him up to bed. He was set down carefully, given warm comforting instructions to be a good boy and get under the blankets, and then he was left on his own.  
  
Freddie just sat there for a moment, feeling too awful to move, then sneezed his right shoe into a red stiletto heel, and sighed, already wishing for a dust blockage. He kicked both shoes off haphazardly, and slowly began to do as he’d been told.  
  
Or, at least, as much as he could manage.  
  
All of his clothes were put away in the master bedroom, and there was no way he was making the journey to fetch them, so Freddie simply shed everything but his pants, and crawled into bed, curling into a small, miserable ball.

Magic came in handy times like this, and with a little bit of force-warming the water Ephram was back in a few minutes bearing a tray with a pot of tea, some shortbread cookies, and plain bread-and-butter. “I bought this here tea thinking you might like it,” Ephram said, setting the tray down on the bed – it was certainly big enough to hold both of them and a tea-tray – and getting in next to Freddie. “Called Buckingham Palace Garden Party. Now if that ain’t proper enough tea even for you, biscuit, then I reckon you hate the Queen.”  
  
Pouring Freddie a cup of tea first, Ephram settled in and tugged his fairy closer, so Freddie was resting against him. “So to answer your question,” he said, “I sometimes get jealous thinking bout you with other fellers, yeah.” Ephram stroked his fingers along Freddie’s side, noting the wheezy hitch to his breath as he continued. “And I mean, I never get jealous of Ruby being with whoever she wants, but … I dunno. With you, baby…” Ephram picked up a triangle of buttered bread, taking a bite and then holding it up for Freddie to do the same, “you I wanna keep tucked against me all the damn time, my own lil jewel box. It ain’t like I wanna–” Ephram nearly said ‘clip your wings’ but then thought better of that particular expression, “–put you in a gilded cage, exactly; I like thinking of you out prowlin’ and charming the good goddamn out of anybody you take a shine to. But at the same time the thought of you with other men makes me all bristly.” Putting the bread down, Ephram licked butter from his thumb. “And if you’d slept with Chris, well … I mighta just done lost my mind over that ‘un.” His jaw grew tight at the thought, eyes narrowing a touch as his voice got flinty. Of course Freddie deserved to have whoever he wanted; but there were some people who Ephram thought didn’t much deserve Freddie.  
  
Ephram returned not long after, like an angel of mercy - equipped with a loaded tea-tray bearing something that smelled enough like Earl Grey that Freddie didn’t reject it immediately - proceeding to fuss over him; getting into bed too and pulling Freddie close, settling him comfortably and giving him a cup of hot tea.  
  
And Freddie, even feeling as awful as he did - cranky, and hurting, and uncomfortably warm and cold all at once - thought it was wonderful. He’d never had anything like it.  
  
Sipping his drink, stuffy-nosed and wheezing gently, fighting the need to cough, he leaned against his husband and focused on the warm, soothing sound of his voice, taking the bite of bread when it was offered, and trying to work out exactly how he was supposed to feel about Ephram’s jealousy.  
  
Because he knew, logically, that it wasn’t something to be pleased about - jealousy could be painful from all sides, and the last thing Freddie wanted to do was to cause Ephram any upset - but at the same time, as his witch explained how he felt, he couldn’t help glorying in it just a little.  
  
 _More_ than a little, if he was really being honest.  
  
“Is it awful that it makes me feel good to hear that?” Freddie asked, his voice starting to rasp, very nearly repeating his question from the strip club, “The same way that dancer did?” He snuggled up a little closer and murmured, soft and almost hesitant, “Because you don’t- I mean… you’re not just telling me all this because you’re still feeling guilty though, are you?”  
  
“Because you know how badly I want to be special to you, and you think you need to make it up to me?”  
  
Coughing lightly and glamouring the bed into a four-poster, Freddie made a miserable little noise. “I hate this,” he muttered pettishly, handing off his tea and curling further into Ephram, distracted by his sickness from the greater matter at hand, “I feel horrid.”  
  
“Everything hurts.”  
  
“It ain’t awful, punkin. No more than how you felt bout me needing some other fairy to glamour you.” The rough raspiness of Freddie’s voice sounded painful and Ephram wished he could do something to help it, but even his magic would be no good. Freddie had the advantage there; his fairy magic would work on Ephram, but it didn’t go the other way with witch magic on Freddie.  
  
Settling for kissing Freddie’s clammy forehead a few times, not caring at all about the sheen of illness-sweat there, Ephram said, “I don’t feel guilty bout nothin’. Guilt ain’t too much of a useful emotion, especially when it comes to a relationship. I don’t wanna associate you with me feeling guilty all the time.” It sounded callous and detached when Ephram put it into words, but he sincerely believed that Freddie would understand where he was coming from. “I love you, honey. You’re special to me and that ain’t ever gonna change, no matter if you fuck every man in this town.”  
  
It seemed like Freddie was just feeling worse by the moment, and Ephram set the tea tray on the nightstand and pulled the covers up around them, tucking Freddie in firmly. “Best to sweat out a fever,” he relayed solemnly. “And then you’ll have to drink more tea. Dunno if some Advil would do fuck-all, I mean, hell – I could get you oxycontin if I thought it would do any good, but somehow I don’t think it would.” Ephram sighed at the futility of treating a fairy for unexpected and unexplainable sickness.  
  
“I’ll figure something out,” he promised. “But right now you just need to rest and I’ll keep you warm.” Ephram didn’t mean that Freddie should sleep, and kept talking as he kneaded Freddie’s back and shoulders gently, his voice faraway as if he was telling a fairytale. “Sometimes,” Ephram said, “I get lost thinking bout you, Freddie. That whiskey sound of your voice. The words you use that I don’t understand. The way your mouth swells up like a busted cherry when I’m fuckin’ you.”  
  
He kissed Freddie’s mouth at that, not lingering too long since Freddie’s breathing wasn’t at its most efficient. “Swear to God,” Ephram said, “some days I think about you movin’ through the world, being your lovable magnetic hot as fuck self and how folks must be hankerin’ for some of your time and attention, and I feel all green-eyed about it but … then.” The witch clasped his hand along Freddie’s ribs, feeling the hectic heat under the chilled skin. “Then I remember I get to hold you whenever I want, talk with you and watch you and have you and Jesus–” Ephram growled a little, dragging the tip of his nose up the bridge of Freddie’s, kissing one eyebrow. “Jesus, honey. It makes me crazy, every single time. I wanna drop everything I’m doing and find you right away, because you’re mine, Freddie Watts. No matter what else.”  
  
Freddie frowned initially at Ephram’s assurance that he didn’t feel guilty - but only for a moment. It was just a flash; a knee-jerk reaction, quickly soothed away by reason - because the words themselves were much harsher than the sentiment being expressed.  
  
Freddie understood very well that not feeling guilty was not at all the same as not being sorry.  
  
“Every man in town except for Chris,” he teased weakly, stifling another cough, before fixing Ephram with a serious look. “But I love you too, sweetheart,” he said softly. “You can fuck anyone you like - put your cock in every man from here to Kingdom Come, if it’ll make you happy - I just want to know that there’s a difference between them and me.”  
  
Woozy again, Freddie let his witch bundle him down under the covers; settling his head high on Ephram’s chest, and sliding his hand down to cup the warm, thick bulge between his husband’s legs. He did no more than that though - just left his hand resting there possessively, and cuddled closer; shivering slightly as he considered his pharmaceutical options. Or lack thereof. “Fairies are so bloody useless,” he sulked, “I could be dying and I’d never even know it. I mean, honestly, it’s pathetic. Thanks, Mum.”  
  
Frustrated and uncomfortable, Freddie sighed and let his eyes drift closed, Ephram’s praise gradually gentling him down out of his dudgeon; and he kissed back as best he could when he felt the press of lips against his own, his hand rubbing slowly over Ephram’s prick. He felt too awful to fuck, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be affectionate.  
  
“I _am_ yours,” the fairy agreed in his abraded voice, “Always, love. For whatever you want me for…”  
  
“But tell me about that bar, Ephram. Because that gargoyle - the one serving drinks - he knew me as soon as I walked up. Gaped at me like I was a bloody unicorn.” Freddie smirked fondly, flushed and sweaty despite his chill. “What sorts of things do you have me do, love?”  
  
“Oh, there’s about a million differences between every other man and you, lil nutling.” It occurred to Ephram how much smaller than him Freddie was, curled up like this in a way that made even his strongly-built frame tiny against the tall witch. It made Freddie seem more fairy-like than ever … although the dust that Freddie kept sneezing periodically did a more obtrusive job of that.  
  
This wasn’t the first time that Ephram had heard Freddie dismissing fairies as useless. He’d always taken it as the sort of in-group ribbing that was the same as when he made fun of Southerners. But those two words tacked on at the end in Freddie’s watery, petulant voice – _thanks, mum_ – made Ephram think that there might be another reason for Freddie’s instinct to deride fairykind. Giving a low, rolling grunt, Ephram pushed up slightly against Freddie’s hand, pleased to feel a matching reaction from his cock. With Freddie this close, with his hand pressed against it, Ephram was pretty confident that his invisible member had returned to its former self.  
  
He chuckled when Freddie asked about what Ephram got up to at Creme de Menthe, planting soft kisses on each of Freddie’s eyelids. “Got your curiosity up with that one, huh?” he teased lightly. “Vain critter you are, my pretty Freddie. Well, let’s see …” Ephram shifted, rocking his hips against Freddie’s warm, heavy hand. “There’s the private dancing, like as you seen already. Sometimes I get you to give me a lap dance, clothes on and all, and I ain’t allowed to touch you.” Ephram’s voice got a little gravelly too, but for much more pleasant reasons than Freddie’s.  
  
“Sometimes we just drink, and I watch you get more flushed and glittery and slutty with every shot. Your hair gets a lil damp at the temples…” Ephram kissed him there, “and your eyes get all big and dark, you undo your shirt some, roll up the sleeves.” Licking his lips, throat suddenly dry and wanting, he continued manfully, “And your mouth, Freddie. Looks downright fucked swollen.” Ephram bumped his nose against Freddie’s. “I’m sure you know what them lips of yours do to a person, dumplin’, but it fuckin’ bears repeating. Sometimes all I can think about is getting home to you and claiming this ripe mouth of yours every way I can.”  
  
He kissed Freddie soundly, again not for too long in case Freddie caught a sneeze midway. “Other times,” Ephram murmured against Freddie’s cheek, “we share a bottle of wine. I ain’t no dab hand at wines but it’s a good one they got, purple practically and tastes like cherries and plums. You sit on the bar and you drink, and you pour it on yourself, and your shirt goes dark and wet and sticks to your body in places.” Ephram licked gently at Freddie’s cheekbone, once, twice. “And I sit on the stool in front of you, and drink – we pass the bottle back and forth – and slowly, slowly pull your clothes open and touch each place your skin’s wet with wine.” He kissed the corner of Freddie’s eye. “Never get farther than unbuckling your belt. By that point all the wine’s done.”  
  
Encouraged when Ephram pushed back against his hand, pleased by the throaty quality of his witch’s voice, Freddie kept up his ministrations; massaging Ephram steadily, and then unfastening his uniform trousers and slipping his hand inside them. A gentle act of intimacy and assumption; confident in the knowledge that he was always welcome to touch Ephram however he pleased.  
  
And as Ephram described what he did with the dancers he paid to borrow Freddie’s face and body, the fairy felt his own little rush of jealousy for these men who’d found themselves on the receiving end of his husband’s attention. Attention that, to Freddie’s way of thinking, rightfully belonged to him.  
  
Not because he couldn’t see fit to share - he’d meant it when he’d said that Ephram could be with anyone he pleased; and the same was true of Ruby and Elizabeth; Freddie only needed to know that he had their hearts - but because if it was him that Ephram wanted to see, then he wanted to be the one catering to him.  
  
Freddie adored the idea that Ephram sought him out even in fantasy - it was flattering, and wonderful, and deeply romantic in its way - he just wanted to be allowed to play too.  
  
To show Ephram that there was nothing like the real thing.  
  
Enjoying his witch’s soft kisses and the soothing warmth of his large body as he laid pressed against him, despite his overall discomfort, Freddie looked up at Ephram with shiny, fever-glazed eyes. “Why don’t you ever ask me for that sort of thing, darling?” he murmured. “You know I wouldn’t refuse.”  
  
Freddie was correct in assuming that Ephram welcomed his touch under any circumstance, and the witch was glad that Freddie had presumed on that agreement. He did feel a twinge of guilty hurt, remembering how his foolish carelessness had caused Freddie to rescind those rights from Ephram – _I let you use my body the way I want you to_ – but didn’t let himself get lost in it. There were too many things that Ephram had to feel guilty over, and it had never helped a damn one of those things.  
  
Caught up in how good Freddie’s hand felt where it was, it took Ephram a few seconds to process what his fairy was asking. “Oh, baby,” Ephram said, slightly surprised at the need in Freddie’s big, glassy eyes. “I know that, I know. This stuff with the dancers, it’s all…” He waved one big hand in the air dismissively. “It’s all silly flirty romance book junk. I mean come on, you know we can do better than lap dances and wet shirts.” Smiling, Ephram rested his chin atop Freddie’s head, saying, “If it bugs you I won’t bother with it. Like I said, it’s just if you’re busy, or if I’m busy, and I can’t see you at that moment. I mean, I could jerk off thinking bout you and do just fine, Freddie.”  
  
Reaching one long arm to the tea tray, Ephram retrieved the barely-sipped tea and offered it to Freddie again. “Honestly, all it does for me is prime the pump for when I get to have you in my arms again, sweetheart. My one and only true Freddie Watts.” He pushed up against Freddie’s hand again, eyes dilating slightly as he rocked into his husband’s palm. “Christ, as if anybody else could measure up.”  
  
“It doesn’t bother me,” Freddie said, working his hand into Ephram’s underwear to wrap his fingers around his length properly, “- for the most part, I rather like it. I like that it’s _me_ you want to see…” He began to stroke Ephram slowly under the covers. “I was only curious, love.”  
  
Freddie did his best to hide his face against Ephram’s chest as he began to cough again, trying to smother it even as another cloud of fairy dust erupted from his body, glamouring the bed under them into a water bed. He muttered a rough sounding, “Fucking hell…” when he was through, frustrated by his inability to control his magic, on top of everything else.  
  
Sighing, the fairy shook his head at the tea, and settled again, tightening his grip on Ephram’s cock just a little. Preening - in spite of all his aches and pains - at his husband’s words.He smiled slightly, jealousy abated. “Good,” he said softly, “Because I feel exactly the same way, darling.”  
  
Ephram nodded contentedly once Freddie reassured him that there was no need to stop with his pastime, that his fairy had just wanted to know what the appeal was when he had the real thing at home. “Well,” he murmured with a damp sigh as Freddie took hold of him more firmly, “at least now you’ll know why, if folks you don’t know give you looks as if they seen you upside-down workin’ a pole.” Huffing out a laugh as he worked his dick into the cup of Freddie’s hand, Ephram’s mirth slid into a noise of surprise when he found the bed suddenly more shifty beneath them.  
  
“Aw, honey, I’m sorry you’re hurtin’,” Ephram said, drinking some of the tea himself before returning it rejected to the tray. “But if it makes you feel any better, this waterbed is pretty fuckin’ great. I always wanted to know what one felt like!” He rocked them a little, with an encouraging snort like a horse when Freddie redoubled his grip, letting himself focus on that contact as Freddie went silent for a few minutes.  
  
God, but Freddie knew how to touch him. The fairy could play Ephram’s body like a goddamn fiddle, which was, he mused, probably due partly to being trained to figure out how to please somebody sexually within the first few moments of meeting them. But the rest of it was gloriously Freddie, the innate desire to make others happy. That one Ephram wasn’t sure Freddie would agree with, from the conversations they’d had, but it was true. Even sick and miserable, his fairy was seeking out ways to please Ephram to soothe himself. It was a little heartbreaking, to tell the truth. Ephram gathered Freddie closer at the nudge, considering his question as he turned a happy pink at the praise.  
  
Freddie went quiet for a moment, just thinking, as he kept his hand moving; then gave Ephram a little nudge, the suggestion of a smirk in his eyes. “Did you really think I’d had it off with Chris though, sweetheart? I mean, he’s very pleasant company, but have you _met_ my husband? I’ve got very high standards when it comes to male attention anymore…”

“I don’t rightly know,” Ephram confessed, a little unsure. “I din’t really think he would be your type, and from what I know of Chris he ain’t into fellers even a lil bit. But I honestly think you could seduce anybody, sweetpea.” He delivered a few kisses to Freddie’s face before kissing his lips, a little frowny at the dryness of them, the hectic heat. “Okay, you gotta drink some tea now, babe. Don’t want you dehydrating.” Ephram refilled the teacup and brought it back, waiting expectantly for Freddie to drain it as he continued, “I mean now that I’m thinking on it rationally, nothin’ could have happened on account of him and Faye being pretty committed to monogamy. Reckon I just got overcome with jealousy.”  
  
There was a little more to it than that. Ephram did get hurt, deep down where his emotions were mushy and muddled and hard to articulate, when Freddie took up with people who had made it clear that they didn’t like Ephram. But it seemed like such a selfish way to think that he’d never examined it, willing to let that hurt float free-form into the oil-black pool of not expecting anything better for himself.  
  
Freddie let out a worn-sounding chuckle. “I’m used to those sorts of looks,” he said, “Though my pole work has never actually required musical accompaniment before…” He moved his hand smoothly on Epham’s prick, rubbing his thumb across the head on the upstroke, and smearing the little bead of wetness there; pleased that Ephram was enjoying it.  
  
Wanting to show his appreciation for his witch’s care and concern. For his indulgence.  
  
Glad to have all of his attention.  
  
And he couldn’t help but smile at Ephram’s enthusiasm for the sudden appearance of the water-bed. But the ache in his head, steadily radiating out through the rest of his limbs, made it hard to maintain for long, and the fairy murmured a soft, “At least not all the glamours are ridiculous, I suppose…” as he continued to work his husband’s cock; focusing on that, rather than his own discomfort.  
  
So when Ephram hugged him closer, Freddie let out a small encouraging noise at the effort. He was shivering slightly again, despite his sweating, and he accepted the kisses he was given gratefully - but wrinkled his nose at the notion of being made to sit up and drink. “My head swims when I lift it though, love,” he whined, “Do I have to?” But Ephram refilled the cup anyway, refusing to be put off, and Freddie forced himself up to take it; sulking as he did. Resentful of everything that wasn’t precisely the way he wanted it to be.  
  
Especially, and specifically, his own body; vile betrayer that it was.  
  
Ephram’s cock though - now unattended - continued to lift the blankets proudly, and Freddie grumpily did as he was told, in order to get back to it; sighing dramatically when he passed the cup back for inspection.  
  
Tea drunk, duty fulfilled, the fairy laid down again, cuddling close, his hand immediately back between his witch’s legs. He fussed and shifted until he got comfortable, the whole time turning over Ephram’s explanation of his jealousy in his mind and finding it oddly lacking - but uncertain, given the current state he was in, how much to trust his own judgment.  
  
“Are you sure? It seemed like more than that to me…” he mused in a drifty voice, a frown settling on his face again as Ephram’s uniform rubbed against his feverish skin.  
  
Pulling away and sitting woozily up, officially distracted from the original matter at hand, Freddie tugged ineffectually at Ephram’s shirt. “Will you take this off, darling? Please?” he asked, “Even my skin hurts, and all this just makes it worse.”  
  
“Says you, dumplin’,” Ephram laughed breathily, his body rising and falling under Freddie’s ministrations. “I wouldn’t put you out of bed if you hummed some Spice Girls while you worked.” He vaguely wondered if he should possibly stop Freddie from offering this heady, wonderful service of his cock, but then decided no. Freddie being Freddie, he’d decided on this and was undeniably focused on the movement of his hand and Ephram’s responses, giving himself something to think about other than how miserable he felt, and it would be pretty goddamn rude to take that away from him. Content in the resolution of this argument with himself, Ephram relaxed into the pleasing shift and sway of the waterbed.  
  
“It sure is nicer than when you sneezed the curtains into flypaper,” Ephram hummed, making sure that Freddie didn’t get rolled away from his side. “And yeah, you have to drink the tea. I know you don’t want it but you gotta sweat out the fever and drinking hot tea is the way to do it.” Freddie downed the cupful with such a sulk on that Ephram, smiling to himself at how adorable he found this, decided to wait before making his fairy drink another.  
  
When Freddie returned to his self-assigned duty (not that Ephram would complain about such diligence) and prodded a little bit further, he grunted slightly and didn’t answer. Getting up, Ephram divested himself of his clothes and forced Freddie to drink another cup of tea and take a bite of bread before getting back in under the covers and pulling Freddie against him, dragging the sheet and duvet up to the man’s chin against Ephram’s chest.  
  
The moment he’d taken to undress and get back into bed had allowed Ephram to gather himself somewhat and figure out how to put his feelings into words. “It’s dumb,” he said finally, regretful of having drawn Freddie’s attention to it. He should have known that his clever, insightful fairy would feel that something was hinky. “I dunno how to even say it right and I don’t wanna make you upset.” After a pause, Ephram said more surely, “Okay, tell me something. Do I ever make you feel like those teachers and other boys at school did? Or … anything along them lines?” Ephram didn’t know much yet about Freddie’s years in the sex trade, but he’d had enough relatives and friends who worked along those lines to have an innate sense of it. Even if he didn’t consciously understand.  
  
Freddie frowned slightly at Ephram’s words - he didn’t want to be upset either; he’d been upset enough lately to last him a lifetime - but he didn’t stop the motion of his hand. It was comforting to touch Ephram like this, to bring him pleasure. To know that he was wanted, and sought after, and welcome.  
  
And to know that he could stop at any moment, and absolutely none of that would change.  
  
But, Freddie thought, he’d asked the question, and - despite his apprehension about the answer - he did want to know the truth; not just have pleasant little fictions lobbed in his direction to keep him sweet. So, still stroking Ephram gently, his own half-hard cock pressed to his witch’s hip, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was coming.  
  
What came though, confused him entirely.  
  
“I don’t…” the fairy started, his voice thick and raspy, “I mean… make me feel how, love?” he asked, “I don’t think I understand the question.”  
  
“I mean do I make you feel like you have to please me so I’ll keep you around.” It was a slap in the face, that question, but Ephram barreled doggedly on. “Do I intimidate you. Physically, I mean.”  
  
Freddie wasn’t answering immediately – how could he? He was probably feeling blindsided as hell – and Ephram rushed into that clip of silence to say, “I don’t mean like, am I just like them, or anything like that. Nothing so cut and dried. Just … I guess, does being with me ever bring up old memories of other fellers who liked to rough you up a little in bed.”  
  
This didn’t have overmuch with what Ephram was feeling, but it was something he’d wanted to know. And whether it was decent or not, he wanted to get Freddie to spill a little blood before he cut his own wrist open over the offering bowl.  
  
Pushing his hand below the covers, Ephram wrapped it around Freddie’s and encouraged his fairy to keep stroking. He wasn’t close to climax, not at this pace and with what they were talking about, but Ephram didn’t want to break that contact. He wanted them to be able to talk about things like this, uncomfortable buried things, without interrupting their mutual need for physical closeness.  
  
“God, baby,” Ephram groaned, “I don’t ever wanna stop touching you. I can’t be fuckin’ within three feet of you and keep my hands to myself, Freddie, my Freddie, I can’t–” He stopped to take a few quick, hard breaths before finishing, “…I still can’t believe you come home to me, you, so fuckin’ wonderful you could have anybody, anybody. But you want _me_.”  
  
Freddie’s hand faltered at Ephram’s questions, his rhythm thrown as he laid there in surprise. He almost retracted it, almost pulled it back, unsure if Ephram actually wanted him to continue, given what he was asking about - but then his witch’s hand closed over his, guiding his strokes back to a smooth glide; keeping them together. Ephram soothing the ugliness of the truth he was looking for with sweet pledges of love and affection.  
  
Freddie, however, didn’t want to talk about any of this. And he didn’t understand why he had to; why Ephram had chosen this moment, when he felt so utterly awful, to bring it up. Or why anyone had to bring up the past at all. Why it couldn’t just stay buried where he’d left it.  
  
The fairy was quiet for a few long minutes, concentrating on other things instead - on the way Ephram felt in his hand, on the way he’d brought him home and fussed over him; on how good it felt to be cared for - and then finally, he opened his mouth to speak.  
  
“Nobody’s ever wanted to keep me around,” he said quietly, “So I suppose that’s probably in there somewhere. Subconsciously. But mostly I want to please you because I love you, sweetheart. Because it makes me happy to know you’re happy.”  
  
Freddie was silent again for a moment. “Not everything I do is entirely selfish.”  
  
“But no,” he went on a moment later, his voice still soft, “-you don’t intimidate me physically. I do know how to protect and defend myself in the event that I need to, love. That’s something I learned how to do a very long time ago.”  
  
He thought about what Ephram had said though, wanting to know if he’d ever reminded Freddie of anyone who’d gotten rough with him in the past; and as much as he hated looking backward, the fairy forced himself to do it, skimming over every instance of sexual violence - or violence adjacent to sex - that he’d ever experienced, and he sighed.  
  
“Being with you doesn’t remind me of anything I’d rather forget,” Freddie said, “-but…” he paused, frowning, suddenly hating that he’d committed to telling the truth in all things when he’d committed to his partners, “…twice, your behavior’s given me a bit of a start, yeah.”  
  
“First, at the hospital when we spoke about Faye; and then here, in the kitchen. You were upset, and you grabbed me in order to get my attention, to make your point.”  
  
Freddie took a deep breath, fighting a cough when he let it out again, and then carried on, his voice rougher, and yet somehow more remote than before. “I don’t like being handled like that,” he said, “Not in response to a loss of control. I don’t like it, and I won’t be on the receiving end of it. Not anymore.”  
  
“That’s why I told you to stop.” He paused again, this time for emphasis. “And you did.”  
  
The fairy looked up at his husband seriously, holding his gaze steady in spite of his red-rimmed, rheumy eyes; his hand still working Ephram’s cock. “I’ll always want to come home to you.”  
  
“I wasn’t thinking you were selfish.” Ephram added after a few moments, with an air of having given it some thought, “…in fact, Freddie, you’re one’a the least selfish people I ever met. Just because you want things that you should have been given freely, baby, it don’t make you selfish.” Ephram cupped Freddie’s skull with his other hand, just holding him, as if that would push what he was saying into Freddie’s brain physically. “You’re happy when you make the people you love happy. That’s pretty much the opposite of selfish right there, ain’t it?”  
  
Ephram was initially relieved to hear that Freddie would be able to defend himself (ably, given that witch magic tended not to work on fae), but that relief was soon scattered when Freddie admitted that Ephram had taken him aback with his violence not once but twice. “I don’t even remember what happened at the hospital,” he admitted, feeling a little alarmed. “But I was wrong to grab you, Freddie. I won’t do that ever again. I know I…” Ephram frowned, his tongue thick in his mouth. “I know I can be frightening. I don’t get mad a whole lot but when I do it’s on a dime.” And then that red lace would pull itself over his vision and he’d lash out, hit something, break something. Not some _body_ yet, thank God, but Ephram often wondered if he’d cross that line.  
  
If he ever hit Freddie or Ruby out of anger, there would be no coming back for him. It would be over.  
  
The gravity of that formed a lump in Ephram’s throat, especially when Freddie still, despite that confession of how Ephram had upset him, wanted to reassure his witch about their place with each other. Licking his lips, Ephram nodded, saying, “I’ll always want to keep you around. Even if….”  
  
Ephram gave an uncomfortable rumble. “She told me,” he said abruptly. ”Elizabeth told me. How she got no wings.” His voice went sour when he elaborated, “I asked her to do something that meant flying, like the idiot I am.” Sliding his hand down from Freddie’s neck to bestow broad, long strokes to Freddie’s slightly limp wings, Ephram said, “I can’t even imagine what that’s like for her. She’s so young, and wants to prove herself so bad, and you’re like all she’s got, and I just – I know I ain’t supposed to but I just keep thinking that I’m wrecking things between you.”  
  
Shoving his hot face against Freddie’s head, Ephram blurted, “She don’t like me, not at all. And it’s either because I take away time that you could be spending with her showing her what being loved feels like, or it’s me, me my own self, something wrong with _me_.”  
  
“I wasn’t frightened,” Freddie said, a ribbon of offense twining around his voice, “I was hurt. And I was shocked. But that’s not the same thing.”  
  
“I know that you could hurt me - physically - if you wanted to, Ephram. But I could do the same to you if I had to protect myself. I’m not so weak as to just allow myself to be abused without fighting back.”  
  
His slightly ruffled feathers were forgotten though when Ephram went on to talk about Elizabeth, to explain that he knew about her wings; replaced entirely with the cold fear that it was happening again. That everything Ephram had said before - everything about being sorry, and not wanting to let Freddie go; about being wrong to make those assumptions, those decisions, for him - had just been negated.  
  
That one additional piece of information was enough to make Ephram rescind his love a second time; Freddie’s heart meaning absolutely nothing in the face of a noble cause.  
  
Letting go of Ephram’s cock, Freddie moved his arm to hold his witch tightly around the middle instead, as he kept talking; telling Freddie his fears about why Elizabeth seemed to dislike him so much. And when he was through, Freddie barely knew where to begin. His head was aching, and now his heart was too - but he forced himself onwards.  
  
“First off,” he said softly, “-if you’re looking for a reason not to love me, Ephram - not to be with me - then you’re always going to find one. Be it Elizabeth, or Ruby, or a hundred other things.” Freddie’s voice wavered, but he cleared his throat and carried on, “So if that’s what’s happening here, then I deserve to know it.“  
  
He slid his hand up and settled it over Ephram’s heart. “But as far as Lizzie goes - I don’t see why how she feels about you has to make a difference to us, love. Or to how you feel about me. I love you. So much, Ephram. And Lizzie…” Freddie sighed, “Lizzie has a very hard time with people. Which is entirely down to her, and what she’s been through. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with you. Because there’s nothing _wrong_ with you, darling. At all.”  
  
He sighed. “And before you tell me that Lizzie’s fond of Ruby - there’s a reason for that. Ruby needed to be rescued. She needed a champion; and that’s how Lizzie sees herself. That’s how she’s able to cope with things. She’s a protector. That’s how she’s able to deal with people - she approaches them according to their hierarchy of needs.”  
  
Freddie’s voice was sounding worse the longer he spoke, but still, he continued. “There’s very few people Lizzie lets in - in fact, Iann Cardero and myself might be the only ones - and the rest of the world, she separates into victims, villains, and other.”  
  
“But just because you’re ‘other’ doesn’t mean she _hates_ you, sweetheart.”  
  
“I’ll talk to her, though,” the fairy said resolutely, “Because whatever her intentions are, if she makes you feel like this, it needs to be dealt with. I need to deal with it.”  
  
Before Ephram could respond though, Freddie rolled away from him suddenly and sat up, overcome by a coughing fit that sent shimmering silver dust dispersing through the room; glamouring the walls so that they were covered with ivy and climbing English roses.  
  
And when he could finally breathe again, Freddie slumped back down into bed, dizzy, but he didn’t return to Ephram’s arms; held back both by the fear of accidentally drowning his husband in expelled fairy dust, and by his own sudden awkward self-consciousness - their conversation digging up feelings that Freddie didn’t care to ruminate on, especially when they fed into much more recent hurts.  
  
“Okay,” Ephram said, not wanting to push the matter further. He filed it away, though, that Freddie wasn’t frightened of him even at those out of control points, finding it reassuring. Until Freddie put his arm around him, and asked if Ephram was looking for some reason for them to split up.  
  
“Oh,” Ephram said, “oh God no, Freddie. I’m done with that, I said I would be and I am. I don’t wanna ever give you up no matter what, no matter who. This just kinda … dropped me in a tailspin. I hate being the cause of trouble, is all, especially for you when you’re trying so hard to be here for all of us. It makes me feel fuckin’ awkward, if that don’t sound too high school. Like I gotta be especially careful not to talk about you with her. It’s ridiculous, I know.” He squeezed Freddie’s arm. “It don’t change how I feel about you, or us, at all. It’s entirely separate but it ain’t comfortable.”  
  
When Freddie declared that he was going to talk to Elizabeth about it, a swirl of panic rose in the back of Ephram’s throat and he began to heartily wish he’d never brought it up at all. “No, it’s okay,” he said, pressing his fingers against Freddie’s skin. “Don’t do that. I’ll get over it, I’m a grown-ass man, I can get over it–”  
  
His entreaties were cut off by Freddie’s coughing fit. Great big gouts of silver fairy dust burst from Freddie’s mouth, a painful-looking thing that left silvery gouges along his lips. It was beautiful; it was horrifying. Ephram felt a moment’s hesitation, but then he gathered Freddie into his arms, wrapping him tight, spreading his big hands over Freddie’s chest as if he could compress the coughs and sneezes there and keep them from erupting.  
  
“Let’s not talk about it now,” Ephram mumbled, kissing the side of Freddie’s neck over and over. “Let me just hold you, baby, and try to make you feel all right.” Ephram pressed his mouth to Freddie’s, just touching him and breathing against him, breathing him in.  
  
His chest and stomach aching from the force of his coughing, Freddie melted into Ephram’s embrace easily; whatever awkwardness he felt overcome by his desire for comfort. And there was precious little he knew of more comforting than the strength of his husband’s arms.  
  
And though he’d have been glad to let the entire conversation go and just put it all out of his mind, Ephram’s words - his ready dismissal of his own feelings - wouldn’t allow Freddie that escape. He kissed Ephram back - a gentle, intimate press of lips - and left a faint sheen of fairy dust behind him when he finally pulled back again, just far enough to murmur, “I don’t want you to _just get over it_ though. How you feel _matters_ , Ephram. It matters to me.”  
  
“If someone close to me hurts you, then I need to do something about it.”  
  
Freddie looked at his witch seriously, wanting him to understand. “You’re not the cause of any trouble, sweetheart; now or ever. If Lizzie and I have problems, then the problems are ours - you’re not responsible for them.”  
  
“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to downplay our relationship, and how much you mean to me, to anyone. I mean, you and Elizabeth may never be friends, darling - you may never care for each other at all - but I never want you to feel like you’re not welcome to acknowledge what we have, yeah?”  
  
Freddie leaned in and kissed Ephram’s mouth again - just a small brush of lips; unsure as he was when his next bout of coughing might commence - and told him softly, “I don’t care how grown you are, love. It _matters_.”  
  
It was hard for Ephram to really get what Freddie was saying, to really internalize it. By nature he was fairly easy-going, low maintenance and happy with the way things were so long as he was loved. But there was also that part of him that always worried that if he asked for more or proved an inconvenience in any way, he’d be chastised for it in one way or another.  
  
But he was asking _Freddie_ to see things differently, so it would be a cheap double standard to cling to his own insecurities and self-esteem problems. How he felt mattered to Freddie. He wasn’t the cause of any trouble.  
  
Ephram repeated these mantras to himself over and over as Freddie kissed him, reiterated his sentiments. “Good,” he finally said out loud. “I like knowing I matter to you. And even more’n that I like telling everybody about you, about us, telling them how wonderful you are and how lucky I am to have you.” Ephram delicately licked some silvery dust from Freddie’s lip, his chin, and wrapping his fairy up tight, rolling them back into bed.  
  
“Now, my Aunt Raylene,” Ephram murmured against Freddie’s face, “she used to say you could stop a sneeze by settin’ your finger under your nose. Like making a moustache.” He gently pressed his own finger under Freddie’s nose to demonstrate and continued, “And my great grandmaw Edith rest her soul said you could stop an Englishman coughing by keeping his arms pinned to his side and his chest compressed.” Ephram paused. “Come to think of it, great grandmaw Edith had a lot of weird sayings based on where folks was from. Nationality-based old wives' tales.”  
  
Freddie laughed gently, as he cuddled closer to Ephram, situating himself as comfortably as he could in the warm circle of his witch’s arms. “Well, if great-grandma Edith said it, then I’m willing to give it a go,” he rasped, “What else did the old girl have to say about Englishmen, eh?”  
  
“Or were we not covered often in her ‘nationality-based’ wisdom?”  
  
Having said his peace, Freddie gratefully let the deeper, more serious side of their conversation slide away into the ether. He was feeling progressively worse as time went on, and he simply didn’t think he could manage any more emotional upheaval tonight, no matter how important the topic. Being sick was just making him feel rather fragile, overall; and all he wanted was to stay here in bed with his husband - warm, and safe, and coddled - and to let the warm, honeyed tones of Ephram’s voice take his mind off of how terrible he felt.  
  
Running his hand gently down Ephram’s side, and over his hip, smoothing it down over the swell of his ass - touching him for the sheer joy of touching him; for the need to stay connected, despite being wrapped around each other - Freddie said, “Will you tell me about them, sweetheart? Your family? I mean, you’ve told me other things here and there, but…I’d appreciate it very much if you’d tell me about them tonight.”  
  
“I’ll feel better if I have something else to focus on… provided you don’t mind, of course…”  
  
Ephram, too, was relieved to move into conversation that wasn’t so fraught and painful. With Freddie melting against him, clearly wanting to be babied and soothed, Ephram couldn’t and didn’t want to fight against it. People generally wanted to be loved and petted, and he knew Freddie and Ruby needed it more than most; as their husband, Ephram was more than happy to oblige their sweet hearts.  
  
“Oh, great grandmaw Edith had a saying for just bout everything you could imagine. I spent tons of time with her, lived with her for a whole year when I was a tadpole. She took each of her grandbabies in for a summer, but me she wanted for a year.” He grinned, tapping his fingertips rhythmically along Freddie’s arm. “Momma was pissed as hell, but she didn’t dare go up against Edith. Nobody did. I was her favourite.” There was a tinge of pride to Ephram’s voice when he related this, his status in the clan matriarch’s eye. “I was, hmmmm, I was six that year. She had me doing work around her farm and it was – well, y’know, at that age doing farmwork is basically the most fun thing you can think of, right? Feeding all them animals and picking peas and food like you wouldn’t believe, Freddie. I still dream bout Edith’s black walnut cake and her wilted lettuce.”  
  
Ephram held up his left wrist and tilted it so he could show Freddie; running along in picked-out blue ink letters in line with his thumb was the name EDITH. “Did that my own self,” he murmured, sounding fond and peaceful even though the explanation was, “when I was twelve and great grandmaw Edith passed.” He wrapped his arm around Freddie again and kissed him, tenderly. “My Gawd but she would’ve loved you, darlin’,” Ephram laughed. “Always liked her a child with some dazzle to em. She liked showy things. Had the fanciest, frizziest chickens the holler’d ever seen.”  
  
Freddie smiled at the small swell of pride in Ephram’s voice when he said he’d been his great-grandmother’s favorite, glad that he’d had that when he was young. That Ephram had known he was loved, and wanted; that there were golden moments and times in his childhood untouched by demons, or poverty, or anything else.  
  
But the fairy chuckled thickly at the notion that farm work was a universally appealing idea, trying to imagine his six-year-old self in a farmyard. “I’d likely have been a little nightmare,” he said, “I didn’t particularly care for getting dirty even then…”  
  
But no sooner were the words out, than Freddie realized they weren’t true. At six he’d been so eager to please, so hungry for love and affection - Bahraman’s, his useless wayward mother’s, even his father’s - that there was nothing he wouldn’t have done if that was promised.  
  
But he kept that nonsense to himself. It had no business intruding on the story.  
  
Freddie traced the blue lines of the tattoo Ephram-the-boy had given himself to remember a woman whose love had come with no strings, and no expectations; and he kissed Ephram-the-man back just as tenderly when he was pulled closer; smiling again, at the assertion that Edith would have liked him.  
  
Finding himself strangely proud of that.  
  
“I imagine I’d have liked her too,” he said, “I always wanted a grandmother. Or any family, really…”  
  
The fairy chuckled again, wheezing until he coughed Ephram suddenly beardless. “Though I have absolutely no idea what a frizzy chicken might look like. I’m a city boy, sweetheart. All the chicken in my life has come decidedly without feathers.”  
  
Ephram had suspected that talking about his family, all the wonderful and unforgettable things that came from being part of a huge, intertwined clan, might make Freddie a little sad. But he trusted that his husband would still want to hear it, would find the telling and measuring against his own empty childhood to be a bittersweet experience. So he carried on, his Appalachian accent thickening as he spoke:  
  
“Lucky for you I got my Mamaw and my Grandmaw – that’s my momma’s mother and daddy’s mother respective-like – still livin’ and sprightly as sprigs in spring. So when I haul your tight city-boy ass down to the Fall kickin’ and screamin’, you can meet em. And they’ll both tell me you done real good, Ephram child, you found yourself a man whose heart is sweet as his face.” He nuzzled against Freddie’s cheek. “ And then you’ll have grandmas.” Ephram’s voice filled with a grin when he added, “…and cousins, and aunts, and uncles, and Jesus, my friend Alesha would think you were the best I ever had.” His voice turned vaguely apologetic as he confessed, “…In fact she kinda thinks that already. I tole her so much about you she demanded pictures and she won’t shut up about how hot you are.”  
  
Chucking under Freddie’s chin, Ephram tapped his nose playfully and said, “Frizzle chickens are great! We’s gonna have a whole set of em once I build the house and put in an aviary. All sorts’ve frizzle chickens and you’ll learn how to feed em and collect eggs.” He grinned devilishly. “And how to slaughter and pluck em too, if you feel up to it, nancy boy.”  
  
His head was pounding, and he suddenly felt altogether too warm - despite his chills of only a few minutes earlier - so Freddie pushed the blankets down to his waist in an effort to correct the problem; but he grinned tiredly at Ephram anyway. “You’re very fond of my tight city-boy ass, Deputy Pettaline, so I’ll thank you not to besmirch it,” he teased. “But I do hope you’re right about your family, though, love…”  
  
He turned his face in order to be able to nuzzle back at Ephram. “I just don’t want to be a bone of contention for them.” Ruby would be easy for them to meet and love, the fairy knew. She might as well have come out of ‘Perfect Southern Bride’ magazine. Freddie, on the other hand - with his accent, and mannerisms; his aversion to hard work, and his cock - might be touch harder to warm up to.  
  
But he smiled again at the slight wash of contrition in his witch’s voice when he mentioned his friend, Alesha - and her enthusiasm for Freddie’s pictures. “So tell me about this Alesha then,” Freddie said with a playful smirk, “I mean, clearly she’s got bloody good taste in men…”  
  
Making a face as Ephram teased him about their upcoming collection of chickens, the fairy coughed out another laugh, turning their bed to a double instead of a king. “Oh, will I?” he chuckled. “Because I’ll tell you one thing, darling - this nancy boy’s not slaughtering or plucking a flaming thing. I’ve got a husband for that sort of nonsense.”  
  
“What I think is,” Ephram said thoughtfully, “once they meet you they’ll be bowled over by you, Freddie Watts.” He kissed his husband gently to punctuate the statement, although really Ephram couldn’t even fathom somebody not being charmed by Freddie. For him it had been so instant, from the very moment of meeting his fairy, that a reaction other than smitten seemed out of the realm of possibility.  
  
“Sometimes I like to play that all out again in my head, y’know,” Ephram murmured, forgetting to clue Freddie in at first on where his train of thought had gone as he reached down to pull the covers back up onto Freddie. “Gotta keep warm, sweating out a fever’s good. About that night we met out on the dock, you and Ollie looking for a place to shelter through the storm.” Ephram smiled, stroking Freddie’s shoulders and back to soothe him through the uncomfortable heat. “I wanted you from the minute I saw you, so fuckin’ beautiful with them wicked eyes and that red plum mouth, that goddamn accent in that goddamn voice like to make a feller bull-crazy to fuck you at the sound of it.” Ephram shuddered in remembered pleasure, his thumb stroking through the dampness gathered at the base of Freddie’s spine. “Lord, honey. You was like magic. Some dream that got lost on its way somewheres and ended up with me.” He grinned. “And I ain’t a man who gives back something he wants so bad as I want you.” A contrite kiss followed this, neither of them having forgotten Ephram’s misguided and cruel attempt to do just that.  
  
“Alesha, now,” Ephram redirected himself, “we was best friends since we started school. It wasn’t easy sometimes what with her bein’ black and me bein’ white and people bein’ what they are, but we was tight. And wasn’t I in love with that girl? Wheee-oou, I musta asked her to go out with me a dozen times before I got the hint.” Ephram shook his head at the memory. “We had another friend, Finn – his family was better off than Alesha’s, and they was both better off than me – and it was him that she like-liked.” Old, calcified jealousy still rang in Ephram’s voice as he recounted this, a grudge against Finn that he’d kept since childhood. “Uh, not for his money or nothin’, she jes liked how prissy he was, I reckon. She was bookish, Alesha, and that sorter feller appealed to her.”  
  
The change in bed size startled Ephram briefly, but he just cuddled Freddie closer to adjust, laughing at his husband’s protests concerning the chickens. “Awright, awright,” he said congenially. “I can’t imagine you doin’ the deed anyhow. Anyroad,” Ephram rephrased, using the term wrongly but liking the feel of Freddie’s slang in his mouth. “You can feed the peacocks and get in quarrels with em over who’s prettier.” Ephram tugged the covers up over their heads, kissing Freddie and whispering against his mouth, “Don’t tell em or they’ll feel bad, but I think you’re prettier.”  
  
“I’ll certainly do my best,” Freddie said, returning Ephram’s kiss softly. “I really do want to make a good impression.” The fairy was quiet for a moment, then smiled, something approaching self-consciousness in his eyes. “It’s funny,” he murmured, “I literally can’t remember the last time I was nervous about the prospect of meeting someone new - if I ever have been - but the idea of meeting your mum makes me want, very badly, to be impressive.”  
  
He huffed out a little laugh, trying not to aggravate the mucous that had settled in his chest. “Maybe I should buy a new suit, yeah?”  
  
Freddie made an unhappy noise when Ephram pulled the blankets back up, immediately adopting a pout - but it fell away as his witch continued to speak; distracting Freddie both with memories of the night they’d met, and the soothing motions of his hands. Ephram’s touch lingering low on his back, just above the curve of his ass, the fairy shifted his hips, pressing himself closer. “I thought the same about you,” he said softly, “That you were something very special… Something I wanted to hold on to if I could.”  
  
He accepted the kiss that followed, nearly able to taste the apology on his lips when his husband pulled back again, and did his best to believe in Ephram’s promises. Right now, he was loved - and that was what he chose to focus on.  
  
Listening with interest as his witch spoke about his childhood friends - the trials and tribulations of preteen emotion - Freddie lifted his hand to wipe at his unpleasantly stuffy nose, interrupting once to ask for a tissue, and then settling again once he had it; thinking about how incredibly different what Ephram was describing had been from his own experience. “Well, I take back what I said before about her superior taste in blokes then, if she had a chance with you and didn’t take it, darling,” the fairy said, his rough voice full of affection, “-though, I suppose I really should be grateful. If she had, I likely wouldn’t have you now.”  
  
Freddie wiped his nose and took a moment to consider that. All the people Ephram had loved before. And Ruby too. Wondering if he was simply a substitute they were willing to settle for…  
  
But he put the thought out of his head quickly. Ephram had already rejected the notion out of hand the first instant Freddie had spoken it aloud; and he knew that it didn’t bear dwelling on - whether it was true or not.  
  
“So what became of Finn?” Freddie asked, “Did he fancy Alesha too? Or was the whole thing just a muddle of misplaced affection?”  
  
The fairy was couldn’t contain a grin a few moments later though when he heard his own familiar colloquialism work its way out of his Ephram’s mouth, absolving him of the duty of executing chickens. As horrid as he felt - weak, and sickly - and as selfish as he knew that it was, he was enjoying having all of Ephram’s attention. All of his focus. Freddie was never jealous of Ruby, and he would never, ever, begrudge his wife her share of Ephram’s heart - that wasn’t the way their relationship worked; and he loved her far too much to even entertain such a thing - but sometimes, he couldn’t help being just a little greedy. It was simply in his nature to want the lion’s share of attention.  
  
And here, under the blankets, as his fever raged on - his husband’s whispered praise sweet against his lips - he had it; and he intended to soak it up.  
  
Freddie smiled into Ephram’s kisses. “Oh, I plan to tell them every chance I get,” he murmured, with a grin, “They’ll need to know who’s boss.”  
  
“Buy a new suit if it’ll make you feel better, dumplin,” Ephram said affably. “Up until I moved out of the holler I had but one black suit for weddings, funerals, and court dates, picked out at the JC Penney’s, and Momma thought it handsome enough for all three.” He smiled, kissing the corner of Freddie’s eye, feeling the tickle of his eyelashes there. “Even when I started stretching at the shoulder seams she thought it looked mighty fine. So the worst of the suits you got now is like to have her looking at you like you was in a damn tuxedo come to pick her up for the Oscars.” He clasped Freddie closer when the fairy moved towards him, saying, “Would it make you feel better if you dressed me up? I know you like spending money on us, and you probably know my measurements by heart now–” Ephram chuckled warmly, pushing his groin against Freddie, “–so you could just order up a storm. You promised me a Sheriff-worthy wardrobe, remember? For when you gotta stand next to me smiling all pretty and trophy-ish.”  
  
Ephram not only passed Freddie a tissue, but held it up to his nose for Freddie to blow. He’d lapsed comfortably back into nursing mode, like he’d done for so many cousins, and didn’t have the aversion to sick fluids that poor Freddie did from them being alien to him. “Nah, Alesha wouldn’t never have got with me. She loves me, but she didn’t want all the trouble I would bring to her doorstep. Can’t say as I blame her.” Ephram shook his head. “Woulda gone real bad real fast for her, seeing as she’s black. Once I got a lil older I understood.” He nosed against Freddie, eager to glut himself on his husband’s presence all to himself. It was inevitable that they’d want to carve out these pieces of time for one-on-one intimacy, and Ephram didn’t begrudge Freddie his time with Ruby and Elizabeth either. But this, even with Freddie sick, was utter bliss to Ephram.  
  
“Finn might have fancied Alesha if things was different,” Ephram mused, taking the opportunity to use another of Freddie’s words. “But he was a good boy and he had a future. College and becoming an accountant.” His voice dipped a little as he summed it up: “He could be friends with us, especially as kids in the holler, but he had to marry white and keep it all middle-class.” Ephram wondered what Freddie thought of all this, the ingrained rules that yet governed race and class in the rural South. “My king of the peacocks,” Ephram said instead, and wrapped Freddie up in his arms under the covers, rolling his husband on top of him.  
  
Freddie smiled, making a small noise of approval when Ephram rubbed against him, reaching between them to touch him again, giving him a playful squeeze. “I do know your measurements by heart, love,” he said, “Have done for ages now. I like to commit everything important to memory.”  
  
He smiled. “And I haven’t forgotten about the new wardrobe I promised, either. I’d love to get you all kitted up to go back to Kentucky. And now that we’ve got a permanent address, it’ll make ordering things that much easier.”  
  
Freddie teased lightly at Ephram’s balls before going back to gently rubbing his cock. “Have I told you yet how much I like you in that uniform though, darling? It takes all my willpower not to do unspeakable things to you in your office every time I come to visit…”  
  
Resolving not to drip, drool, or cough on Ephram any more than was completely unavoidable - when all this horrific business was over, Freddie still wanted his husband to be attracted to him, not see him as some miasma of fluids - the fairy snuffled one more time, then just hoped for the best as Ephram nosed against his temple; unwilling as he was to give up the closeness of the cuddle. “Is Apple Fall very…uh…” Freddie thought hard for a moment, despite the pounding in his head, searching for the appropriate word, “…segregated, that way?” he asked.  
  
The fairy knew, of course, of the reputation of the rural American South - he’d read books, seen films, been to school - but he had no experience of it. Nowhere he’d lived had been immune to racism, classism, or prejudice, certainly - but he knew there were only points of comparison there; and that, by and large, they were very different realities. Especially when his own experience had been colored by wealth and privilege for so long.  
  
He’d seen some ugly things in De Wallen - his sort of trade wasn’t tremendously welcome in the district proper - and in other places, but…  
  
But.  
  
He knew that what Ephram was talking about was something else. Something Freddie didn’t feel he had the right, or the knowledge, to speak to.  
  
He smiled though when Ephram maneuvered him up on top of him, settling down with his head resting in the crook of his husband’s neck and shoulder, rolling his hips to grind gently against his witch, now that his hand was no longer able to provide any sort of intimate relief.  
  
Freddie laid there quietly for a moment, just listening to Ephram breathe, then said softly, his lips ghosting against Ephram’s neck, “How will people feel about you and I there, love? I mean… will there be any sort of fallout for your family?”  
  
“I don’t want to cause them any trouble…”  
  
“Oh, Freddie honey – you can do unspeakable things to me wherever and whenever you damn well want.” The delectably naughty promise of it made Ephram’s prick push against Freddie’s hand in mute approval, and he rocked his hips forward to chase down the pressure. “I like the uniform too. Feels right, somehow, when I’m wearing it. Once I’m good and established as Deputy Sheriff I cam even switch it up and wear jeans instead of the uniform trousers.” He chuckled, butting Freddie gently with his forehead.  
  
He was still nosing when Freddie asked about the demographics in Apple Fall and how that played out, and Ephram took a moment to think about how to say it. “Things could get tense,” Ephram acknowledged. “Especially among the older folks. And when times get bad, y’know, everybody’s casting about for who they can blame. I wouldn’t say the Fall was a sundown town or nothin’, but when the violence happened it could get pretty bad.” Ephram pushed unconsciously closer to Freddie, saying, “Alesha’s cousin Jimmy got hung from a tree down at the river one October. Nobody looked into it much. That was when I realized how different things were for her growing up in the holler.”  
  
With a deep, mournful breath, Ephram tucked his face against Freddie for a few moments, paying respect in a sense before letting it slip away. It was hard to dwell on such terrible things with his husband’s weight deliciously on him, safe in their little cocoon. “I wasn’t never too, uh, discreet about liking dick, if that’s what you’re asking. My family knows it already.” He kissed Freddie a few times, wanting to taste him even if it was shot through liberally with fairy dust. “So with them it won’t be no trouble. I wouldn’t, y’know, act it too much, but folks don’t dig.” Snorting a little, Ephram said wryly, “In a town where that many men done hard time, sexuality gets a lil complicated.”  
  
Ephram looped his arms around Freddie, linking his hands and stretching, hips rising to push against the fairy. “But you probably been in places the same, huh? Where being queer ain’t exactly approved of, but there’s, I dunno. An understanding.”  
  
Freddie let out a weak, sleepy chuckle at Ephram’s open invitation for him to act on all his naughtier impulses, and smiled, tilting his face up to press a kiss to his husband’s lips. “Be careful what you wish for, darling,” he murmured, “I can barely keep my hands off you as it is…”  
  
“And it’ll be even worse if you’re allowed to start wearing your jeans to work.”  
  
He smirked, nosing against Ephram’s cheek. “Though I do enjoy the way your uniform trousers tend to accentuate your cock…”  
  
The fairy sobered as Ephram explained about the racial inequities of his hometown though, trying to understand and get a sense of what it would be like to grow up there. But he knew he never would. Not really. It would be arrogant to think such a thing were possible.  
  
He did want very much to see it, though. To experience it for himself - even in some limited way - so as to be better able to understand Ephram, inside and out. Because Freddie wanted to know everything he could about the man that he’d given his heart to. He wanted to touch every single part of him, for better or worse.  
  
Relieved then to hear that the townspeople of Apple Fall were already aware of Ephram’s affinity for masculine company, and thus wouldn’t be visiting any sort of righteous anger about it onto Ephram’s loved ones, Freddie snuggled down against his witch - the hand that had been playing with Ephram’s cock now idly teasing his nipple - but glanced up again, at his husband’s question, nodding.  
  
“Yeah,” he said, “More than a few, actually. Where the gulf between what’s done and what’s talked about is enormous…”  
  
Freddie sighed, coughing again and darkening Ephram’s blond hair with a small swirl of fairy dust. “It’s more common than not, really - even in this day and age.”  
  
Freddie’s sleepy, vaguely muddled back-and-forth approval of Ephram’s work clothes was adorable and Ephram let him know, peppering his husband’s face with little happy kisses. It kept him insulated from the things he was talking about, ugly truths that were accepted as normal in a place that Ephram was so deeply tied to. As for whether Freddie had been through anything similar, well–  
  
“I can see that really being the case for when you was in school, huh?” Ephram wasn’t going to push, but like Freddie, he was eager for every single experience that had crafted his fairy into the man Ephram held in his arms. “Everybody knowing what happens there, but you don’t talk about it at all. Kinda makes it sorter sick inside, y’know? Not getting to talk about the things that happened to you so you can figure it out aloud.” Ephram tugged at his own auburn hair, curiously. “Almost can seem like it didn’t happen at all if you never talk about it. Which is good and bad, I suppose.”  
  
With a gusty groan, Ephram slung his arms around Freddie, kissing him soundly. “How you feeling?” he asked. “And yes, if I decide you need some fluids you’re gonna be swallowing more tea. Just think of it as medicine and you’ll manage, sweetie.”  
  
Freddie made a small noise of contentment as Ephram kissed his face, smiling and kissing back whenever his husband’s soft lips would brush against his own. But he nodded again when his witch mentioned all the open secrets present in his education.  
  
“Oh, everybody knows what’s going on,” he said, “-it’s been going on since the dawn of bloody forever; nothing new under the sun, after all - but everyone just carries on as if they haven’t a clue.” Freddie sighed. “That’s as much a flaming tradition as anything else.”  
  
He went quiet though as Ephram continued on about the nature of things left unsaid - the queasy sort of loneliness of it - then said, his voice a little remote, “Some things it’s just better not to dwell on though, yeah?”  
  
“Some things just don’t bear thinking about.”  
  
But the fairy couldn’t help but grin when Ephram’s arms came up around him a moment later, squeezing him tightly; and he welcomed the kiss that followed - even if the notion of more floral tea made him wrinkle his nose and huff.  
  
“I feel disgusting, actually,” he said, “I honestly don’t know how you can stand to be this close to me right now, sweetheart. But I’ll take my medicine like a good boy - provided I get to complain about it at the same time.”  
  
He pinched Ephram’s nipple. “Because if that tea’s what they serve at Buckingham Palace, then it only goes to show the damage done by generations of royal inbreeding. They haven’t got any bloody tastebuds left.”  
  
“Some things, yeah,” Ephram acknowledged. “But then again, it inevitably gets to a point where not thinking on em stops working. And it all starts bleeding into everything else.” Ephram cupped Freddie’s face in his hands, looking at him intently as he stroked those familiar features with his thumbs. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Oh, my darlin’ Freddie, you ain’t never gonna feel that aloneness again. When it starts to bleed, I’ll be here to wrap you up.”  
  
He chortled easily at Freddie’s disgust with himself, saying, “I don’t mind it. In fact there’s parts of it I even like.” To save his fairy’s dignity, Ephram didn’t list them out loud, but he liked the oily sheen on Freddie’s eyelids. He liked the way that Freddie’s skin was tacky when he touched it, sticking and clinging for a moment before letting go. He liked the dampness of Freddie’s skin coupled with the dryness of his lips; he even liked the greasy, astringent tang of how it smelled here, under the covers with his husband. “I like every single thing about being with you.”  
  
Growling when Freddie pinched him, Ephram sucked at one of Freddie’s pouty lips, murmuring, “I might could get you something you’d like better,” Ephram said. “You could try a milk and pepsi. Or some chicory coffee with an egg beat up in it.” He snickered at the idea, adding, “…pancake syrup and soda water.”  
  
Freddie didn’t like to think about the bleed. How it sneaked up on him when he least expected it, taking his knees momentarily out from under him; shaking him until he could bury it all again. He hated those moments more than he hated anything else. He hated the hurt, and the fear; the way it left him feeling lost and hollow - but most of all, he hated the weakness of it. The forced acknowledgement that he wasn’t nearly as sorted out as he liked to think he was.  
  
As he pretended to be.  
  
That his control was full of tiny hairline fractures.  
  
The fairy didn’t like to think about it - and so he refused. Somebody had to keep the roundabout turning, after all. And really, what right did he have to whinge anyway? He’d always been the architect of his own pain.  
  
How could Freddie ever take his petty little hurts to Ephram - Ephram, who’d grown up in poverty, suffered with Anaxis since the age of fourteen, lost the girl he loved to drugs and death, and experienced untold horrors in prison when he was still only a boy.  
  
He couldn’t. It was monstrously selfish to even consider.  
  
But he appreciated the sentiment all the same, for as long as he could hope to call it his.  
  
So he looked into his husband’s eyes - Freddie did like to fall back on that word; on what it conjured - and nodded his head to show that he understood, that it meant the world to him to have it offered, before settling down again and tightening his grip, sniffing hard as his nose began to run more freely.  
  
Rolling his eyes fondly at Ephram’s little chuckle, and his assurance that he was quite happy where he was, Freddie’s various expulsions notwithstanding - vaguely amazed that such a thing was possible; that anyone could care for him enough to welcome a puddle of snot on his chest from Freddie’s leaking nose - Freddie murmured, “Well, I think you’re mad…”  
  
He smiled softly, tilting his face up again, “-but I love you. And I’m very very glad you’re here.”  
  
Mmming into Ephram’s playful suck at his lip, the fairy made a progressively more horrified face at each of his witch’s new suggestions. “Ugh…and there I thought nausea was the only symptom I didn’t have…” he groaned.  
  
“Keep that up and you’ll be wearing my dinner, darling.”


End file.
